Dancing 'Round the Issue
by Ante Down
Summary: Martha is asked to have a heart to heart with the new Prime Minister. What they discuss leads to a confrontation with the Doctor. Speculation on the identity of Mr. Saxon, Lazarus Experiment spoilers. References the classic series.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

"Ah, Miss Jones. How nice to meet you." Martha took note of his expression as he looked up from his paperwork, head slightly tilted to one side, as if he was waiting for her to understand the punch line of a joke he'd told.

"Mister Saxon." She wished she could keep some of the apprehension from her voice. Why would the Prime Minister want to talk to _her_? And why would he be looking at her as if the meeting was a giant private joke?

There followed a pause in which Mr. Saxon continued to look at her with amusement, and she looked at him with growing suspicion.

Without further ado he said, "so, Miss Jones, how much do you know about the alien calling himself the Doctor?"

Martha snorted. It would just figure that the Prime Minister would want to have a heart-to-heart about the Doctor. Somehow, someway, ever since she had met him, every remotely strange thing in her life was about the Doctor.

Enough. Concentrate on Mr. Saxon.

This close, he was definitely different to how he appeared on TV. Not that she'd seen much of him on TV, what with the travelling and all, but still. He seemed more sincere, and definitely more attentive, but his scrutiny felt strange, as if he was amused by her reluctance to tell him anything about the Doctor. Like…he was in complete control of the situation. Including what she would do. And he knew about the Doctor, including the fact he was an alien.

Something wasn't right here. Time to go out on a limb a bit.

"You're not human, are you? And what do you know about the Doctor?"

"How perceptive. He never did have much patience with those who weren't. As to the second, I know a great deal more about him than you do, I'm sure, my dear."

"You a friend of his or something?" This did not make sense. Why would he tell her that he was an alien? What did he _want_?

"You could say that." Martha was getting seriously creeped out by now. It was like the Doctor, when she'd first met him. Dancing around the issue. But Mr. Saxon was slimy.

"What planet are you from, then?" she asked, genuinely curious.

He dismissed her curiosity with a slight wave of his hand. "A long way away, my dear."

But she'd be damned if she'd let him just ignore her questions like that. She hadn't let the Doctor get away with it.

"Tell me. Or I won't answer your questions."

He appraised her for a second. "You really won't answer my questions unless I play along with you. Very well. The name of my planet is Gallifrey."

"Gallifey? But- hang on, that's the Doctor's planet. You're a Time Lord? But you were all blown up, yeah? Least that's what he told me."

"Oh yes. He would know better than anyone that the Time War had casualties. And, of course, he knows who those casualties were." There was a flicker of something strange on his face.

Martha now officially doubted that this man was any friend of the Doctor's. Mr. Saxon, despite what he knew, was not treating the Time War as if it were a serious matter.

Mr. Saxon noticed her distaste. "It was a long time ago. Easily long enough to accept what happened."

She still wasn't convinced.

Mr. Saxon sighed. "What exactly do you know about the Time War, Miss Jones?"

"Not much. Why?"

"Humour me," Mr. Saxon said, leaning back in his chair. "Tell me what you know."

She gave him a sceptical glance. "All he told me was that his people fought against the Daleks. Said he fought in it. That's all."

"So he never told you how the war ended? How interesting. Perhaps, even after all this time, he has still not fully accepted…" This thought seemed to _amuse_ him.

"Excuse me, but I fail to see the humour in having your planet blown up!"

"Ah, but my dear, you also fail to see the irony of the situation."

She shot him another Look. "And what irony would that be?" she asked, no humour in her voice.

"Let me put it this way, Miss Jones. Would you consider the Doctor to be a good man?"

A blindingly obvious question. "Yes, of course."

"And do you think that the Doctor goes out of his way to avoid killing?"

Martha had no idea where he was going with this. "Well, yeah."

Now he leaned forward, clearly eager to make his point. "So if I told you that the Doctor has committed genocide three times over, you would see some irony in your previous opinion of the Doctor?"

"What? No. No way he did that!"

"Oh, but he did, Miss Jones. He slaughtered the Racnoss last Christmas, and the Daleks, and his own people." He chuckled. "So long ago, he refused to destroy the Daleks at the beginning of their creation. Ah, what he would do to have that opportunity again."

She thought back to their encounter with the Daleks in New York. Reluctantly, she concluded that he probably would. But genocide? Three times? His own people? No way.

She said as much to Mr. Saxon.

The infuriating man laughed again. Sick, he was. Sick. Nobody should laugh at genocide.

"You don't believe me? You don't think him capable of killing and then deceiving you about it?"

"No! I mean, yeah, he could kill, I reckon. But he wouldn't lie to me about it."

"Do you know what happened to your cousin Adeola, then?"

"Yeah, she was killed at Canary Wharf." This was an unexpected line of inquiry. Even more unexpected than asking about the Doctor.

Mr. Saxon's expression changed slightly, as if she were slow. She'd been on the receiving end of that look quite a lot in her life. She'd received them first from Mr. Stoker at the hospital, then from the Doctor. "I mean do you know _exactly_ what happened to her? Do you know how she died?"

"No, we never got the body- wait. The Doctor knows something about that?"

"Why, of course. He was there. More than that, he was the one who killed her." He smiled, eyes shining with a mixture of malice and pleasure.

Martha couldn't think of a quick reply to that. She sat there, stunned, for a few second.

Eventually she managed a pathetic "he never- he would never- he would have told-" but pure shock was setting in. He had told her he'd been there, the very first time they'd met. She had told him about Adeola.

"But he did, my dear. He held his sonic screwdriver to her head- the very instrument he claims cannot harm- and shut off her brain like you would turn off a light. And with just as much remorse."

He had hesitated before telling her anything, she remembered. Then he had avoided telling her any more about it. She had dismissed it as a 'Rose thing'.

Her brain was refusing to fully process the facts. So she changed tack slightly. "How do you know all this?"

"I'm Prime Minister, my dear. I have access to all sorts of footage," he said, with an oddly triumphant look.

Martha shook her head. "There's just no way. No way. He would have _told_ me at least."

Mr. Saxon's smile grew broader. "Go back to him, then," he said. "Ask him, straight out. See what he tells you. I have nothing more to ask you. Go on."

With a final glare, Martha stalked towards the door.

"Oh, and Miss Jones? Tell him the Valeyard will see him soon."

The sound of his soft, mocking laughter followed her as she walked out of the room, only a bit faster than she normally would.

**A/N:** So, what do you reckon? Should I do some sort of continuation? I have an idea for a follow-up, but…I think this works quite well standalone, despite the loose ends. Review and let me know?


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

**A/N: **Well, I saw the Lazarus Experiment and the second of the season trailers, and I got some inspiration to continue this story. It'll be a three-shot, the third part currently in the works. Without further ado…

**Getting to the Point**

"Doctor! Doctor! Open up right now!"

His discussions with Jack could wait, as much as they had to catch up on. Jack should have been able to tell the Doctor a decade's worth of sexual exploits by now. They'd been talking for three hours. But Jack's tales of his many and varied amorous adventures-slash-daring escape stories could wait.

"Doctor!" She pounded on the door. Hard. She'd left her key inside. She pounded again. Until, of course, the Doctor opened the door rather abruptly.

"Oh, what is it _now_? Honestly, you're worse than-" He stopped dead right there. He did that when he thought about people from his past. Martha had learned that there had been quite a few of them.

Too bad. The Doctor's memories could wait. They had more important things to talk about.

"Doctor. Canary Wharf. My cousin. What happened?"

He looked puzzled. "Your cousin…your cousin…oh, your cousin! Adeola!" He looked quite proud that he'd remembered her name. "And you tell me I never pay attention when you talk about your life." His face fell. "Wait. She died at Canary Wharf, didn't she?"

She felt sick. "Yes, she did. What happened to her, Doctor? What happened?"

He turned towards Jack, still inside the TARDIS, saying as he did so, "Jack, could you give us a minute? I need to talk to Martha in private."

She heard Jack laugh. "Sure thing, Doctor. Enjoy your 'talk'." Martha could imagine the leer he'd said the final word with. Jack could wait too, however charming and attractive he was.

The Doctor put his hands on her shoulders and looked down at her. "The Cybermen happened, Martha. You know what happened."

"But, Doctor, see…" she hesitated for a bit, and then went on, "Mum told me that you weren't safe. And just now- just now I came from Mister Saxon's office…" She trailed off, a lump forming in her throat.

"Mister Saxon? The same Mister Saxon that paid for Doctor Lazarus' experiments? The one that just became Prime Minister?" he said, as confused as she'd ever seen him, excepting only the John Smith incident. And that was not something they talked about often.

What Mr. Saxon had told her…

"Mister Saxon said you killed her. Mum said so too. I have to know, Doctor…what happened?"

He dropped his hands from her shoulders, sighed and scrubbed at his head with his hands. "The Cybermen put something in her brain, to control her. It stopped her brain working. I shut down the device in her brain. It killed her."

So now she knew. He'd killed her cousin. _With as much remorse as he would feel in turning off a light_. She stepped back from him.

"How could you not tell me?" she asked, quietly and calmly.

"Martha, please, she was dead before I did anything to her. The Cybermen took away everything that made her Adeola, everything that made her your cousin. Not me."

"Just shut up, Doctor, just shut up!" She was shouting now, turning away from him, his plea for her understanding hurting her more than an outright denial would have done. He wouldn't see that he was the one that killed her, couldn't seem to feel meaningful regret for the life he'd taken.

The life he'd taken…

Genocide.

Three genocides.

Mr. Saxon had told her about three genocides the Doctor had committed.

Martha could remember his horror at the genocide committed by that Dalek, Caan, in New York. How could the Doctor have done something like that himself, not once but three times?

She turned back to him. She had to know this, too. "Doctor, how was your planet destroyed?"

He suddenly went very still. As still as he had when she'd first asked him about his home planet. But his expression was different to that time. No fading expression of pleasure, no whimsy or nostalgia. Just a frozen guardedness.

"Why would you ask that?" he said slowly.

And just as she had been in Mr. Saxon's office, she was lost for words.

His eyes narrowed further. "Why would you ask me that, Martha Jones?"

She managed to stutter out a pathetic "He said…he said…"

"Who is he and what did he say?" It was his turn to take a step back, right against the doors of the TARDIS.

"Mister Saxon…he said…that you killed all the Daleks. That you…killed your own people. Doctor, why would you do something like that?"

He didn't respond, just turned away just as she had. The pause dragged out for nearly thirty seconds.

"Doctor?"

The Doctor whirled around to face her, something approaching a snarl on his face. "Because the Daleks would have destroyed first the Time Lords and then every other species in time and space. That's why, Martha Jones. Every other living being in the entire galaxy, dead. If not for what I did."

Again, she was speechless. How could you respond to your best friend, the man closest to you in the world, in any world, telling you that he had killed two races, one of them his own?

The Doctor continued to stare at her angrily. "Are you satisfied now, Martha? Are you pleased with what I told you?"

She'd never seen him this angry, at least not at her. He'd never looked quite so alien as he did now, standing straight against the side of the TARDIS, cold angry face illuminated by the streetlight. Martha found she still couldn't think of a reply.

"Now, who told you what to ask?" he said, plainly still furious.

She found her voice. "He said he was from your planet. From Gallifrey."

And his mood changed. Just like that. Hope and disbelieving wonder replaced fury. "The Face of Boe said- but I thought- I would have _known_- the Prime Minister- I can't believe-" Apparently he was too shocked to form complete sentences. With a smile as bright as the sun he asked "did he give you a name, or an alias, anything?"

Despite her own anger with him, she couldn't help but be concerned. No friend of the Doctor's would make such an effort to tell her the worst things about the Doctor.

"Martha?"

"Well, yeah, he did give me a name, sort of. It was a weird name. Do all Time Lords have names like you guys? 'The Something-or-another'?"

He looked puzzled again. "It wasn't common, but there were a couple. The name, Martha, what was his name?"

"The Valeyarn, Valeyard, something like that. What's a Valeyarn anyway? Some type of profession?"

He went still again.

"What did you say?"

"Uh, Valeyarn? Why, do you know him?"

His face was completely, totally blank as he said, "it's Valeyard. A name for a prosecutor. And yes, I know him."

The Doctor opened the door to the TARDIS. "Jack! Come on, we gotta go."

Jack poked his head out. "Where to, boss?"

"We're going to go meet the Prime Minister."


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

**A/N: **This contains some negative descriptions of both Rose and the Doctor. These descriptions are for purely dramatic purposes and do not represent my opinion. To everyone who reviewed, thanks- the reviews really do make my day.

**The Candidates' Debate**

The Doctor, Martha and Jack had been apprehended almost as soon as they entered the large block of administrative offices where they had been told the Prime Minister was visiting. The Doctor had suspected that nothing he could do would fool _him_, but he could try anyway. His ruse with the psychic paper had worked for all of five minutes before the security guards had descended on them and confiscated everything in his pockets. Including the sonic screwdriver.

Security guards being security guards, though, they felt obliged to drag the Doctor and his companions around by their arms. And in a not-totally-unexpected development, a call from the head of security came in, informing the goons that the Prime Minister would like to talk to the intruder in the brown coat.

So the security guards dragged the Doctor to his originally intended destination. There was something ironic about that. He was trying to pinpoint exactly what when he was thrown unceremoniously onto the carpet, face first.

With his luck, he'd probably get carpet burn.

"Oh dear. You really didn't have to be so rough, gentlemen. You may go now," said the strangely mild voice of 'Mr. Saxon'. The Doctor climbed to his feet, rubbing his jaw. No carpet burn.

"What's going to happen to Jack and Martha?" was the first thing the Doctor said.

Mr. Saxon sighed. "So concerned. What a loyal friend you are. Don't worry; they'll just be put in an empty office for a while. Acceptable?"

"Not really."

"A pity, then, that you cannot do anything about it."

"Watch me."

"You forget who you are talking to."

Both men raised their eyebrows. The Doctor was stone-faced; Mr. Saxon seemingly waiting for the Doctor to make the first move. Mr. Saxon's second sigh broke the silence. "Come on, Doctor. Just ask me what you intend to ask me."

The Doctor did not speak.

"Oh yes. I forgot. You think my response will be to tell you that if anyone could know my motivations, it would be you. Quite right, too. But perhaps we should let this play out as if this were not the case. Now is not a bad time for reflection, after all."

Still no response from the Doctor.

"I insist on having some discussion, Doctor. You have a planet to save and we have a battle of wits to play out. If it would make you feel better, remember that all discussion is undertaken on your own terms."

That provoked a response. "You are _not_ me. You will _never_ be me," the Doctor hissed.

Mr. Saxon's face was devoid of any mockery when he replied, "True. _You_ will be _me_. Now, can we please move this conversation along, instead of arguing about semantics?"

"What do you want here?"

"Aside from 'amusement' and 'power', both of which I'm sure you already worked out, ask yourself what a possibility could want." The faintest trace of a malicious smirk was becoming evident on Mr. Saxon's face.

"You're a possibility…you want certainty. You want to know…" the Doctor faltered, realising the aim of his enemy's plan.

The malicious smirk became an outright grin. "Yes. I want to know that I will exist at some time in the future."

The Doctor took some time to think. "Hang on, you talked with Martha. Why not just tell her everything, or kill her?"

Mr. Saxon rolled his eyes and said, "Because I want her to ask _you _about our past, and I know that you'll never give her full and honest answers to her questions. I want her to come to _me_ for those answers. And Martha is a woman who needs answers."

"Don't you dare. _Don't you dare!_"

"What should I not dare? To stimulate her thinking? To encourage her to question the world around her? Or to set in motion a train of events which you would not enjoy?"

The Doctor fell silent again.

"She will come to me for answers, if you don't give them. We both know that."

The Doctor's voice was firm as he replied, "Martha will understand."

And Mr. Saxon sounded more pleased than ever as he said, "That's what I'm counting on."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that she will understand that we're not human. Oh, she knows that physically we're not human, but she doesn't really understand the difference mentally and morally. Yet. I've prepared a rather pretty speech for her to introduce the topic."

"Never thought I'd be a politician."

"Obviously. Do you want to hear it?"

The Doctor groaned. "Oh, all right, I suppose the villain must have his monologues."

"Just you remember that when next you give one of your speeches, Doctor. Anyway. Fire. Ice. Rage. The storm- I rather liked that touch. The night, and the heart of a sun. Ancient, eternal, burns at the centre of time, can see the curve of the universe- I liked that touch too. Nothing like a private joke."

"Well, that's a bit rubbish. Might want some complete sentences there," the Doctor said. "You might also want to put _the facts_ in there too."

Mr. Saxon rolled his eyes again. "They are the facts, and you know it."

"Only a selection of them. Martha will see through this in an instant. So would Jack, and Rose, and anyone I've travelled with. You know it."

Mr. Saxon ignored the point, and said quietly, "Ah, dear Rose. Rose faced her fears and fought the earth's enemies bravely- provided that she never had to analyse or reflect on anything. She didn't understand what made you try to kill that Dalek, how you could consider destroying Earth to save it, never thought of the creature in the Pit as anything but a mythological bogeyman…the list goes on."

"Rose loved me. She would have- would have-"

"Died for you? Of course. But she did not love you enough to leave you on her own terms, even knowing that you would inevitably survive her."

"It was her choice."

"And she chose her own happiness over your peace. How unfortunate that she did not get what she wanted in the end either."

The Doctor opened his mouth angrily, but Mr. Saxon forestalled him. "I felt what you felt, pathetic as it was. We both know Rose. Rose would not understand- and that is why she would stay."

"Martha will understand. I trust her." Rose had trusted him, even at the worst times. He would not fail Martha as he had ultimately failed Rose. And that meant trusting her judgment, and having faith that they could stay together for a while. It meant respecting her intelligence and decisions.

"The question is, will she trust you? Martha is sharp enough to cut herself, as some might say. And what about Jack?"

The Doctor found this question suspiciously easy. "Jack understands me better than anyone alive already."

Mr. Saxon's expression changed to one of contempt. "As if immortality is all that a Time Lord is. As if it is all that we are. Fire. Ice. Rage. The storm. But when you think of Jack, just remember that he will survive anything you do to him."

The Doctor snapped. "What are you planning?" he yelled in frustration. "Why are they so important? They never did anything to you!"

The Doctor had apparently touched a sore spot, because Mr. Saxon shouted back, completely disregarding the possibility that security could come running. "I need you to see what they are! They and the people like them, the _humans_," he said with a sneer, "that you pick up and show the universe are all that prevent my concrete existence. So they have to go! I will make you lonely and then I know I will exist!"

They glared at each other for a few moments.

"I won't be you. I won't let you hurt them," the Doctor said coldly.

"It won't be me doing the hurting," the Valeyard replied with a snarl.

"I'll answer Martha's questions. To the best of my ability."

"She'll be in my office as soon as she possibly can, asking me those questions because you wouldn't answer them properly. The seed of doubt has already been planted."

"I'll tell her what you are. I'll tell them both what you are."

"You'll tell them what _you_ are. Without all the pretty, mythologically significant words. Can you bear to acknowledge, however indirectly, that you are a liar, a thief and a murderer? Can you bear to admit that some part of you sees them as pawns in your schemes? And even your telling them makes them part of our little game."

Without a pause, the Doctor said, "I _will_ stop this. This _will_ end."

"All things end. Sometimes they don't end the way you would like them to," the Valeyard responded, and hit a button to call for security.

Prompt as only hired muscle could be, the security guard entered the room. "Ah," Mr. Saxon said, "can you take our guest to the office where you detained his friends? Let them cool their heels a bit. Exchange war stories, perhaps."

As he was dragged out of the room, not quite as roughly as he had been dragged in, the Doctor maintained eye contact with the Valeyard, who was firmly entrenched in the Mr. Saxon persona.

"_I will stop it,_" the Doctor said by way of farewell.

"We'll see," the Valeyard said.

His eyes sparkled spitefully as the door closed behind the Doctor.


End file.
